


La Vie En Rose

by grandilloquism



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Drinking, F/F, First Kiss, Kissing, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, Sexual Tension, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandilloquism/pseuds/grandilloquism
Summary: Crowley had done a lot of tempting in her day, but it took every one of her wiles to get Aziraphale up off her arse and moving. You couldn't, even charitably, call what the angel was doing dancing. Not like they did it now, at least.





	La Vie En Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Small fill for the GOkinkmeme, for the prompt: always!female & "After the apocalypse-that-wasn't Aziraphale stays over Crowley's place and they share a bottle of wine and then Crowley decides it's a good idea to try to teach Aziraphale to dance something other than the gavotte but Aziraphale is just so clumsy and their bodies touch a lot."
> 
> In my mind theyre dancing to Louis Armstrong's La Vie En Rose, and Sam Cookes You Send Me, but feel free to imagine whatever you like

Crowley had done a lot of tempting in her day, but it took every one of her wiles to get Aziraphale up off her arse and moving. You couldn't, even charitably, call what the angel was doing  _ dancing _ . Not like they did it now, at least. 

Crowley moved circles around her, Aziraphale in her careworn suit, her white curls going in all directions and her cheeks flushed a delicious pink from the wine. There had been rather a lot of wine, but how else were a couple of extra-planar beings meant to ring in the whole rest of the world? It wasn't going to do it itself, and they were just about the only ones who even knew anything had happened. 

Thus, the wine, and thus, the dancing. It had been a silly whim, at first, just the need to feel a little more in her own skin. She had snapped the sound system into playing something she could move to and shimmied her way around the furniture, cackling at Aziraphale's startled, "My dear!"

" _ Ooooh _ ," she said, throwing her glasses down on the end table and throwing back the rest of her wine. "Stuff it, angel and get over here."

After an  _ age _ her angel finally got with the program, but she was so stiff and desultory about it that Crowley almost wished she had left her on the sofa. The music changed about then, and she frowned a little.

"This you?" she asked, meaning the piano and horns that had started up.

"No," Aziraphale said, prim as any schoolmarm, "but I say I vastly prefer it."

Crowley rolled her eyes, but averting the End Times had made her somewhat magnanimous (or perhaps it had something to do with the wine) and she gamely grabbed Aziraphale about the waist and took one hand in hers, leading. 

It took a couple tries, but soon they were box-stepping their way about the flat and Aziraphale was smiling up at her, and the hand she had on her shoulder was warm through her shirt.

Very warm, Crowley came to realize.  _ She _ was very warm, close enough to Aziraphale that the bookish smell of her was full in her nose. She felt her own cheeks, the traitors, warming, and was about to pull away when the song changed. Aziraphale sighed a hot gust of wind against Crowley's neck and leaned her head down to rest just under where her hand still rested on Crowley's shoulder. 

It pressed them very close. Just about flush from hip to chest, in fact, with Aziraphale's divinely formed nose brushing the hollow of Crowley's throat. She just about combusted on the spot. Somehow they kept moving, a gentle sway that was barely  _ dancing _ at all, just their bodies brushing against each other as they moved side to side. 

Crowley felt dizzy. She felt, at once, too drunk and not drunk enough. "Aziraphale," she said, almost a whisper. 

Aziraphale looked up. Her eyes were fathoms deep, and such a perfect blue that all other examples of the color paled in comparison. She was smiling, her round cheeks flushed. "Yes, dear?"

"Angel," she said, sounding pained to her own ears. She leaned down, slowly, watching keenly for any sign that she was on the wrong path, here. 

But Aziraphale's smile only went wider, and both her small, soft hands came up to clasp the back of Crowley's neck. 

If dancing had felt like burning then their kiss was Vesuvius emptying herself into Crowley's every nerve-ending. And it only continued, the wet slides of their mouths and Aziraphale's nails at her nape and Crowley's hands, ever-moving, exploring, mapping all the new ground she was apparently enthusiastically permitted. 

When they parted Crowley's lips buzzed, and she felt flushed all over.

"Well," Aziraphale said, her lips pink and wet, "I think that's a start."

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr @ grandilloquism


End file.
